


Shadowy Flirtations

by arctickchild



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8518825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arctickchild/pseuds/arctickchild
Summary: Avery doesn't mean to flirt during sessions. It just sort of... happens.





	

_The forest is dark and quiet. Leaves rustle softly against your feet, the wind a melancholy kiss to your skin. The moon hangs loosely in the night sky, a silent witness to -_

 

A battered d20 bounces off Grave's glass, cutting him off. There's a choked laugh from Landry and Finley's end of the table, quickly hidden behind a hasty cough. Hayes looks away from the hastily scrawled map, a shy smile quirking his lips; Mason and Reese openly grin, safe in death from their boss' ire.

 

“Yes, Avery?” Graves asks, with an appropriately dramatic sigh. Avery scratches at their cheek, smiling sweetly.

 

“Lord Ashenfall is trying to check for traps,” they say. Graves' lips twitch, a brief smile quickly smothered by theatrical somberness.

 

“Traps.” Graves' hand falls over Avery's die. “What is your Wisdom modifier?”

 

Avery grimaces, glancing at their character sheet. Lord Ashenfall's attributes laugh up at them, successfully arranged to remind them of the fact they are hilariously unqualified to do Hayes' job; they pick at the sleeve of their hoodie, and give Graves a stubborn glare.

 

“-2,” they admit. Graves tilts his hand, checking the roll, and push the die toward them. A half-faded _1_ grins cheekily up at them, and Avery groans, dropping their head onto the table.

 

“Lord Ashenfall,” Graves announces, and Avery can hear him hiding another smile, “has found nothing. In fact, he's positive that there is nothing at all ominous about this forest, and that the rumors the villagers passed on to Star were completely unfounded after all.”

 

Avery groans against their character sheet, and drags themself back upright to glare at the man.

 

“I hate you,” they declare.

 

“I'm certain you'll survive.” Graves glances at Hayes. “I do apologize for them.”

 

Hayes frowns, poking at his character sheet. Poor James is still unconscious from the last fight – which was not Avery's fault, no matter what Reese says – which means he can't step in and stop them this time. Avery glances at Landry and Finley, hiding their faces behind their drinks.

 

In their best imitation of Ashenfall, Avery straightens, smiling brightly. “Let us travel onward, dear friends!” They punctuate the suggestion with a wide sweep of their arms, and wince as they nearly smack Hayes. They shoot him an apologetic smile, and continue, “This is truly a place of peace and restoration, unfairly besmirched by ignorance and fear. Let us continue on, and swiftly shall we find an appropriate place of rest.”

 

Finley is giggling into her cup. Reese grimaces, taking a large gulp of his long-cold coffee. Landry leans forward, smiling brightly.

 

“Lead on, oh fearless leader,” he says, voice low and rough in a cheap imitation of a Southern drawl. Finley hiccups, covering her mouth with her hand.

 

“After you, Lord Ravensworth,” she says, her attempt at quiet dignity ruined by the way her voice breaks around a laugh. “May your guidance lead us true.”

 

Oh, this _so_ isn't funny. Avery glares at them, betrayed, and reaches for their die.

 

“Lord Ashenfall takes a single step forward,” they say, defeated.

 

“Roll dexterity.”

 

Avery rolls. Even Hayes is laughing now, which seems like a horrific betrayal given all Ashenfall has done for this party. It's too low to even be worth mentioning; the positive modifier isn't enough to change the fact that they have, once again, fallen into another pit filled with silver spikes.

 

“I blame Reese.” They sigh as Graves shifts into his chair, folding his hands together across the table. “Really, I had _much_ better rolls before he got himself killed.”

 

Reese scoffs. “Too bad you couldn't talk your way into getting him to revive me,” he says pointedly. Avery scrunches their nose, sticking their tongue out at him.

 

“Lord Ashenfall.” Graves gives way to Death with a well-practiced tilt of his head. “There are easier ways for us to meet.”

 

Avery flushes, reaching for their water. “'Tis not I whose nature precludes daytime... uh...” They flounder, glancing around the table. Finley is trying to mouth a suggestion at them, slow and deliberate, and Avery blinks helplessly at her before settling on, “... frivolities.”

 

Reese chokes on his drink. Avery is pretty sure Hayes is trying to sink into his seat to escape the tidal wave of second-hand embarrassment his seating placement has subjected him to. Landry's startled laughter echoes through the empty cafe, startling poor Junta awake; Avery can hear him scrambling upstairs, trying to escape the sudden explosion of noise.

 

Graves his the only one who manages to keep it together, and when they glance at him Avery can see that even he's smiling under the guise of his character. He leans forward, one cool finger brushing over Avery's wrist.

 

“There are many frivolous activities one may engage in beneath the light of dawn,” he says quietly, “although should you summon me then, I would not consider our time together among them.”

 

Avery is pretty sure they've managed to burn off about ten pounds in the last five seconds. They twist their wrist, catching Graves' hand and squeezing it pointedly.

 

“Nor should I, sweet Death,” they agree, and hope no one noticed the emphasis they put on the name. “My heart is torn by the necessity with which I leave you in these shadows even now, and yet leave you I must. For what leader would willingly walk away on the, uh, eve of such a battle that yet awaits us, even for so sweet a promise as your... embrace?”

 

They roll their d20 over the knuckles of their free hand, ignoring the awkward silence that has fallen around them, and sheepishly offer it to Graves. He glances at it, and sighs theatrically.

 

“One such as you, perhaps, could not,” Death agrees. “But you must be more careful in the future, Lord Ashenfall. I know not whether I could part with you again.”

 

Reese bolts to his feet, shaking the table, and Avery jerks back from Graves. “Right,” he says, “seems as good a place as any to leave off. Unlike some people. I have class tomorrow.”

 

Graves draws back, smiling softly. “Of course,” he agrees, and everyone else starts to get their things together. “I trust you finished your essay already?”

 

The bustle of the others getting ready to leave falls into a familiar, cooling pattern. Avery leans back in their chair, sighing, and slowly pulls Ashenfall's sheet off the table. They feel around under the table for their bag, dragging it toward them, and duck out of sight to put it away.

 

It's cool and dark under the table – pretty nice, actually. Avery pulls their folder out of the bag, carefully sliding Lord Ashenfall Ravensworth, vampire knight, into place, and takes a steadying breath. This campaign, thankfully, is nearly over; they're pretty sure Mason's the next on the roster to DM, which is a relief. Trying to hide the fact they're not-so-secretly in love with their boss is hard when their boss takes every in character moment he can to hit on them.

 

Not, they reflect with a grimace, that it's entirely Graves' fault. _Daytime frivolities_. What the hell had possessed them to say that? There are a _lot_ of pretentious synonyms they could have used for talking. Conversation, exchange, engagements – no, not engagements. Engagements would have been a bad choice. Considering they've been dating for less than six months, and haven't even told _Reese_ , engagement would have been a horrible choice.

 

“Idiot,” they mutter to themself. Avery scoots further under the table so Hayes can squeeze by, burying their head in their bag to look like they're busy packing up. “Idiot. _Idiot_.”

 

The door opens with a familiar chime, and a moment later Avery hears it close softly behind the others. They sigh, slumping toward the table leg. “Who's stupid idea was this, anyway?” they ask, too loudly.

 

There's a soft laugh, and Graves kneels beside the table.

 

“I believe it was yours,” he points out, offering his hand. Avery glares at him, feeling the flush creep down their spine.

 

“Don't remind me,” they say, and pull him under the table with them. He inhales sharply, taken off balance, and Avery catches his shoulders before gently lowering his head onto their knees. “You don't make the whole _secret relationship_ thing easy, y'know.”

 

Graves sighs, lips curling into a fond smile, and he brushes his knuckles across their cheek. They'll need to cut their hair soon, they reflect grimly; it falls around their face like a curtain, heavy and awkward, and the elder witch trails his fingers through it.

 

“My dear,” he says softly, “if you think they didn't know within moments of Finley leaving us alone the first time, you underestimate them.”

 

Avery huffs, squinting at him in the shadows. His hand drifts to cup the back of their neck, hesitating in an unspoken request, and they relax, smiling down at him.

 

“Guess that's a given,” they allow. “Still, no need for them to know more than they do, right?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

Avery leans over, tilting their head to kiss him. It's easier here, out of sight of any curious eyes; his thumb traces a soothing line at the base of their skull, eyelashes brushing over their jaw as they fall shut. Easier for both of them, Avery suspects.

 

_I love you_ , they think, and pull away. His eyes gleam, fire and ice in the light from the cafe proper.

 

“I'll clean up,” he says. “Go rest, Avery.”

 

They hum quietly, running their fingers through his hair. “In a bit,” they agree, and blush. “Can we just. I dunno, stay like this? Just for a while.”

 

His thumb pauses in the middle of their neck, and some of the tension eases out of his shoulders.

 

“Of course,” he agrees. “For as long as you like.”

 

Avery bites their tongue against the first thing that comes to mind, and leans over to kiss him again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i was in desperate need of some light-hearted fluff and good feelings today and i just finished this game the day Before so i thought i would turn my hand to some mostly harmless light-hearted otp fluff


End file.
